


Please

by thegreatgayjatsby



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Beaten and half-dead/abused Dirk., Cruel/Monstrous Jake., Everybody else is dead., M/M, Post-Sburb, Sadstuck, This is really awful to Dirk.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-20
Updated: 2014-03-20
Packaged: 2018-01-16 09:29:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1342321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatgayjatsby/pseuds/thegreatgayjatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The game's over. The only two left are Dirk Strider, and a monstrous rendition of his best friend. Jake just isn't himself any longer. Dirk takes the punishment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Please

**Author's Note:**

> This hurt to write but I wanted icky stuff so here

The first thing Dirk sensed when he awoke was the lack of feeling in his arms. He shifted a little on his aching knees, blinking and surveying his surroundings through a blurry field of vision, his glasses not in their usual perch upon the bridge of his nose. Making a soft noise of discomfort, the blond looked up, licking his cracked, dry lips.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been able to swallow without his eyes watering from pain. 

Exhaling shakily, Dirk raised his head and blinked a little again, rolling his neck and shoulders until the joints popped and cracked audibly. Shifting, he glanced at the door to the room he was locked away in, and he felt his hopes plummet.

He was alone. Still.

As he worked his jaw slowly, curling his fingers and trying to adjust his position on the hard, cold floor, Dirk tried to evaluate his injuries. His bones creaked as a whole with every movement, and eventually, he settled, only waiting for his tormentor to return.

That was he really could do, wait and accept.

His skin crackled as he grimaced, coughing and rasping as he inhaled the scent of dried blood. His face was caked with it, his hair matted and filthy. He’d been beaten more times than he could count, his ribs bruised and his chest whining in protest with every breath he took.

Dirk was frankly, disgusted with the condition he was in, and how he hadn’t really been able to fight back. His wrists were chained together, the metal biting through his flesh and scraping along bone by now, his arms stretched so high above his head his shoulders had dislocated.

Fighting back wasn’t even an option, now. He hadn’t even been given the chance. 

A tremble wracking his injured body, Dirk let his head hang again, eyes half-lidded, his heart sinking as he accepted defeat. There wasn’t really anything left for him to fight for, anyways. No friends, no family, no future, no world. Nothing left to save. Dirk was alone.

Accept, his captor. The door slammed open with a heavy, metallic gong-like noise, and Dirk’s stomach leapt into his throat. His captor, looming in the doorway, stepped forward and into the room, flicking on the lights as he came.

Dirk kept his head bowed, eyes squeezed tightly shut, his fists clenching a little against his bonds. An ominous chuckle reverberated around his skull, and head spinning, Dirk felt bile rise in the pit of his stomach. 

There was no hesitation behind the blow that came, and Dirk stayed silent and unprotesting as his captor laid into him, kicking, punching, beating without any regret. It was only when the other grabbed his chin and tilted his head up did he really feel any pain.

Looking into beautiful, cold eyes, Dirk’s stomach twisted, and he felt his throat protest as he ripped himself away from the other’s grip, chest heaving as he attempted to throw up the lack of food in him. When he was finished, fresh, salty tears pouring down his face and a string of saliva dribbling from between his lips, his captor nudged him roughly, turning him so his arms pulled painfully.

Dirk bit back a whimper and steeled himself for the other’s unfeeling stare, and he made a weak noise of hatred in the back of his burning throat. His captor smiled nastily, lips curling up as two fingers came up to brush Dirk’s hair aside. 

“Are you ready for your next step of training?” The other male purred, voice teasing and cheerful.

Dirk choked on a swallow and closed his eyes, blocking away the image as the fingers wandered down to make scissoring motions along his neck’s vicious scar. 

“Of course you are, old chap!” His captor continued, and Dirk began to cry for real, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes as he stared up at the other.

Please, he thought. Jake, please.


End file.
